Jungle Life over Social Norm
by MegaMr46
Summary: First off, I didn't create this story, I typed it in from and for the original creator herself, my personal friend, WildWolfHipster. She is the one who is in love with George, I'm the one who is in love with Ursula the feral woman. Her Story has really warmed my heart. It's GeorgeXOlivia (that's her real name.) Thank you WildWolfHipster. George of the Jungle Fanfic


**Jungle Life over Social Norm.**

 **By WildWolfHipster**

 **Typed by MegaMr46**

"Now, this is living," I said to myself pouring my recent export of Arizona Green Tea in my cozy coconut shell. "Nothing like a day of relaxing, drinking tea and enjoying the jungle's wonders and beauties to make a woman happier."

I almost felt like I was the happiest woman in the world. I was living in paradise. It was as if I had just obtained this once in a life time moment to be mine and mine forever. But then I realized how, back at home, most people would kill to have a life like this. Surely, in retrospect, this was just ill-minded delusions and fantasies only so many women like me could imagine and so many hardworking men could ever dream to be a part in. Perhaps that did seem selfish. Despicable, even for me to come to terms with. But I knew what it was like back there.

When I was a young girl, society felt like...it was the overbearing barricade that imprisoned me from my freedom. Nothing in life was free and nothing in that world was decent, kind, or even subtle. It felt like I was a caged animal living in a world where the social norm was to be expected of me. I hated that! Everything was about production, industry, mobility, and having things given to us automatically, especially with new and advanced technology enhancing hundreds of other people's lives. Time was money and as such, it was clear to see that people wanted things to be done on the dot and on the double, no matter what was, as long as it didn't waste their time.

Placing my index finger to my cheek and my thumb under my chin, I tried to remember what I was like back then. How it's been so long since I could remember the times of my youthful self. How, living in such a concentrated environment full of industrial regulation, security, labor, manner, social order and gender roles made it seem almost impossible to escape from it. "Miserable" I thought. "Just Miserable." The people throughout the busy streets always had a glum look of showing no concern for others. Instead, the would be more concerned with themselves as well as their own private matters and affairs. I used to wonder what these affairs were. What people have go through in order to live their lives the way they should be, seeing how some people chose to pursue and use their education to benefit their lives while others contributed to what they have into what they desired, be it drugs, sex, or living off what they little they can find to provide food, warmth and shelter. Although most of them didn't always show it or often shared it with others around them, it was obvious that everyone had their own problems no matter how bad it was for them or what they do in order to survive and face the hardships of life's realities. And then I thought of something, How my life there in the civilized world was anything compared to my life here in the jungles of Africa? Surely my home wasn't as much of a paradise as some may suffuse that it is. True, it wasn't. Despite Africa's strange yet lustrous evergreen charms, its many dangerous creatures, poisonous plants and unknown diseases were no stranger to the common man. When I told my friends and family this, they laughed and said that the Jungle was no place for a woman. How very typical of them to say that. They thought I was crazy. If only they had known how wrong they were. If only they could see me right now. At the moment in thought, I smiled for a while, but then shrugged with a frown.

Taking a sip of tea from my coconut cup, then I took a deep breath to the warm tropical perfumes of the forest that always seemed to captivate my senses with a shrill of such exotic pleasures and delights. I smiled to a happy thought of my husband who lived in the forest with me, yet suddenly frowned when the thought of the civilized society I had once lived in crossed my mind.

My husband is the proud monarch of the Dark Continent. He lived by his own laws and instincts ever since he was a child among the great beasts of the primordial woods. Our first encounter was he rescued me from a leopard and swung me to safety in his little hut where he took good care of me. As the days went by, while getting to know this jungle man, I taught him to speak English where as I learned that he had already become familiar with the literacy of the written word which he had taught himself through his father's old collection of books at the youthful age. When he was finally capable to speak fluently and perform conversations adequately, I had promised to take him to see the world, to see where I came from, hoping discover things he had never known before. But then, as I took him to see my homeland after about a few days, he suddenly disbanded himself from what he had seen and known by what other men did. He became so disenchanted by the laws, expectations, misconceptions and hypocrisies of the civilized societies that he often felt overwhelmed by his experience making him traumatize and act wildly violent. He had never known of such a world so confusing than his own. How such a place would make him distraught from his own understandings and natural experiences. When I first saw his reaction to this, I would cautiously hold out my hand to him and he would stop for a moment to realize I was there to help him. He would crouch underneath my chin and slowly lays his head against my breast. And while stroking his long, elbony, black hair gently, in a calming motherly whisper, I would say to him, "It's all right, love. It's all right. Shhh, I'm here now, it's okay." At that moment I felt as though, I could hold onto him like this forever. I felt his tears run through my white blouse and that's when I knew just how miserably upset he was. Like how I was. He told me afterward that he wanted to go back home, back to where he belonged. He didn't like the feeling of being inflicted by society's incarcerated liberties. He was a free man in his own country. He had shown me many wonderful things in the jungle and just by me holding him in my arms, I knew where I belonged too...with him.

So I scheduled a crew ship to take us back to Africa where he would finally be able to tear off his formal clothes and finally feel the wind within his naked body. I was so happy to him smile so handsomely. How I adored that smile, but was I happy? Of course I wasn't I had to go back to a world where I had a life to live, and I hated that life. Why should I go back? If I left, the wild man whom I dearly loved will never see me again. If I stayed, what were the chances of me ever seeing my family again or my friends back home?

What did it matter before? My family wanted me to be an accountant which I was never interested in. Most of my friend wanted me to pursue my family's dream while some of them wanted me to pursue my own dreams and see the world for myself. It almost seemed that my friends and family only wanted me to be safe while also wanting me to be part of society's detaining lifestyle. My parents had told me at times that they only wanted what was best for me, when , in actuality, they only wanted what was expected of me. They didn't understand how I felt while I was living there. They didn't understand how I always pictured myself as a bird in a cage. I was never allowed to make my own decision, always disciplined to act accordingly, and never be able to spread my wings and fly away from this God awful place.

Suddenly, I saw my husband swing over towards me where he was carrying a whole bunch of plantains with one hand and holding onto a vine with the other. Before I got up from my chair to greet him, I sipped my last drop of tea and rushed over to my husband with such joy that I couldn't contain it. Once he stepped lightly on the bamboo floor, he placed the large bunch on top of the table closest to him and then with open arms, hugged me so tight that he lifted me up off the ground. As I erotically kissed him, then nudged my head to one side against his as he started loosening his muscles, not to squeeze me too tightly. And then within a few moments, I said to him delightfully,

"I'm so happy that you're home."

"I'm happy to see you too. Look what I brought."

I took a look at the bundle he brought, but was way too excited to see my husband return home at last.

"Olivia?" he said to me.

"Yes?" I replied, returning my attention to his eyes.

"Are you unhappy?"

"No, George," I said concerning, "Whatever made you say that?"

"I saw you sitting there with a sad look on your face when I came in. Is something wrong? Are you sick?" I smiled at him though I felt slightly embarrassed.

"I was just thinking again," I replied.

"About what?" he asked.

"Well I was thinking how happy I am living here with you. I thought about my life past back home and I also thought about human societies and just complex and contrived their laws are. Though, I can't help but feel guilty about something."

"What is it?" he asked.

"The thing is George, is that all my life I wanted to be free and feel like I can be my own person and do whatever I wanted without having anyone tell me what to do or tell me what's appropriate or what's right. Somehow I feel like I just abandoned my family and friends for my own selfish desire. I took everything that I once knew for granted. And now..."

I soon felt myself wanting to cry. As tears started to roll down my face. I buried my face in George's chest. Before George wrapped his arms around me, I whimpered out, "Now I want to go Home!"

 ** _Special thanks to WildWolfHipster for this heartfelt story, it is really, really, really wonderful._**


End file.
